


Sweat, Treachery and Scorn (Wayhaught)

by Fruity446



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: A whole load of gay, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prison, Champ is a bumhole, Dynamite Sisters, F/F, Love, Mutual Pining, Nicole Haught Backstory, Nicole and Waverly are both gay messes, Nicole has suffered too, Nicole is badass, Oral Sex, Protective Nicole Haught, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Waverly has a traumatic past, Waverly kicks ass and takes names, Wayhaught - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruity446/pseuds/Fruity446
Summary: Waverly Earp is the newest inmate at Black Rock Prison. She's well known, being an Earp and all, but is popular in the criminal underworld for being one of the Dynamite Sisters. During a huge scale operation in Edmonton, she's apprehended, but her sister Wynonna escapes. She's sentenced to seven years, and it's all anyone can talk about, because aside from taunting the police, the Dynamite Sisters have never been caught.Nicole Haught has been in prison for the past five years, and everyone knows to steer clear of the redhead. Nobody knows what she's in for, but rumour has it that she has powerful allies, having escaped several times before. Of course, when she catches on that there is a Dynamite Sister at her prison, she's just as curious to catch a glimpse of her.Needles to say, their first interaction is very dramatic, and there's instantly a tension between them. It's both sexual and scornful, but neither can resist the pull. The question is, what do they really want from one another?
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 20
Kudos: 141





	1. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for the entire work: sexual assault (not detailed but it's discussed), crime, murder, abuse.

It shouldn't have ended like that. It's all Waverly Earp can think about. Everything had been planned down to the tiniest detail, including the shifts the cleaning crew worked and the positions of the CCTV cameras and the history of every artefact at the Royal Alberta Museum. Even Wynonna, her older sister who didn't give a hoot about history had listened to her younger sibling and had read over the notes she'd prepared on everything, even though she thought it was a precious waste of time.

They had been planning one of their biggest heists yet, a heist to go after some aboriginal artefacts that were extremely rare that had just been returned to the museum. After receiving letters of support from First Nations and Métis representatives, the Royal Alberta Museum was the successful bidder for 33 of the 43 objects at the auction for the items at a total price of $1.1 million. The purchase of the artefacts was made possible with the financial support of $600,000 from the Government of Canada and $486,000 from the Alberta government. 

The artefacts consisted of a Blackfoot dress made of mountain sheep's skin, a rare finger-woven Métis sash, a beaded Plains Cree pad saddle and the Earl James Carnegie's journal. Waverly and Wynonna had planned to steal all the artefacts, before selling them on the black market to profit out of them. 

But it had all gone horribly wrong for the Dynamite Sisters. Just as Waverly had been preparing their calling card―you guessed it, a string of dynamite they had planned to blow up to create a hole in the side of the building―dozens of police swat teams had stormed the museum, guns loaded in their direction and a helicopter whizzing overhead, along with the faint sounds of sniffer dogs barking excitedly outside. It was a miracle Wynonna escaped. 

She hadn't been so lucky. An officer tackled her to the ground before she could ignite the fuse, leading to a scuffle between them that ended in her arrest. She remembered crying in agony at the unbearable pain of failing, fearful of going to prison for the first time. Her tears had mingled with the blood from her bloody nose, but no one cared as she was bundled into the back of a police cruiser and driven away. 

Now, two weeks later, after having been sentenced to seven years in prison, she was being transferred to Black Rock Prison. It was supposed to be one of the most well protected facilities in the state, but she knew that was bullshit. There were always cops willing to help prisoners escape for money or drugs, at least according to her friend Jeremy, who had been in prison four times after getting caught selling stolen government secrets on the black market. 

Waverly was never going to see Wynonna or Jeremy again, at least not until her sentence was over. How could she spend seven years away from the only family she'd ever had? It was so unfair. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blue and red sirens flashing behind her eyelids. It made her sick. She was a failure for being caught. Nothing would change her mind. 

* * *

Nicole Haught sat hunched over her bowl of porridge, cradling it like it was her last meal. It was entirely possible it could be. The cook always made her porridge extra sweet, as the redhead would fill her in on the gossip in the prison in exchange. She didn't know why Bertha was so interested in knowing what the inmates were up to, but she got better food than the others in exchange, so who was she to complain? She shovelled the gloop down her throat, trying not to think about the unsavoury texture of it as it slipped down her throat. 

Nicole had been in prison for the past five years, but no one knew what for. It was rumoured she had powerful allies, since she'd escaped prison several times. Everyone knew to stay clear of her though, ever since she'd stabbed herself with a fork just to prove that she was tougher than that fake tart Stephanie Jones. People knew she was crazy, and she thrived on making her fellow convicts quiver in fear whenever they met her eyes. 

Today though, the cafeteria was awash with excited chatter, making the redhead curious about what was going on. Abandoning her bowl and cutlery, she marched over to a group of girls on the table closest to her, prepared to beat the information out of the kids if she had to. 

"Hey," she snapped, causing the group to flinch once they recognised who she was. It made her smirk, and she didn't even bother concealing it. She was above these petty thieves on the prison hierarchy. She was a queen. "What's going on, kiddos? What's all this chatter about, huh?" 

The girls exchanged wary glances before the bravest of them―a medium sized girl with chestnut brown hair wound up into pigtails that were tied up by pink scrunchies―turned to her, eager to share the news. "There's a new prisoner arriving," she said excitedly, a glint in her blue eyes as she rambled on with a huge grin. "Word has it that it's one of the Dynamite Sisters." 

It was a sect of sisters Nicole was familiar with, as was everyone around the world. They had pulled off huge thefts that had never been done before, and they were crazy rich. But until now, nobody had ever caught a glimpse of their faces. If it hadn't have been for the signature dynamite calling card, nobody would've realised there was a duo of powerful sisters making their way through security systems like nobody's business, taking what they wanted all for themselves. 

But now there was rumour one of them had been caught, and it was sure to be spreading like wildfire across the internet and along the criminal underworld. It made Nicole anxious, knowing that she could be in the presence of criminal royalty, that she could be turned into some lap dog for a stupid bitch that was so cocky she'd ended up getting caught. 

Even so, she refrained from unleashing her anger on the kids. They were only seventeen or so, caught shoplifting or something for a dare. There was no point in screaming at them, it wouldn't feed the beast's hunger. They were too innocent, just fuck ups locked up in here. Just like her. Except she'd fucked up even more. 

"Thanks, Scrunchie," she thanked the girl with the pigtails. She beamed, knowing it wasn't often that Nicole Haught ever thanked someone, much less gave them a nickname that wasn't downright rude. Nicole's gaze swept over the other girls, before she huffed and walked off. 

Fifteen minutes later, she was out on the yard, dribbling a ball as she played basketball with some arsonist who had her hair braided in cornrows and tattoos of sea creatures, a shoplifter with her head shaved clean like an egg, and some other women she didn't know all that well but appreciated their devotion to basketball. The score was 0-5 to her team, making her grin. There was no way she'd ever lose a game, much less to a bunch of short people. She had all the power, and everyone respected that about her. 

She was playing the position of point guard, preparing to pass the ball to Ocean so that she could score, when there was the loud rumbling of a van approaching. A sleek black van pulled up to the prison's gates, waiting by the entrance until they were cleared to enter. The chatter had returned, and the game was forgotten as everyone crowded around the fence, anxious to catch a glimpse of the Dynamite Sister. 

The van was cleared to enter, and it pulled up alongside the fence, before seven armed men wearing bulletproof vests exited the vehicle, leaving the two drivers in the front to man the vehicle. There was the sounds of shouting, before a woman was yanked out of the vehicle by her forearms, whilst she protested along the way. Nobody had caught a glimpse of her yet, as the guards were surrounding her, as if they were escorting the president inside. 

There was more shouting, and Nicole elbowed her way to the front of the fence, watching as the mysterious woman launched at one of the guards, kicking him harshly in the groin before she made a grab for his weapon. Now everyone could see her as the guards raised their own guns, trying to persuade her to drop the weapon as she held it to the man's temple. 

Nicole couldn't believe it. She was staring at a Dynamite Sister, and the woman looked far too innocent and angelic, despite her reputation and the fact that she was holding a police officer hostage. She had long, flowing, silky looking honey brown hair, and her her plump lips were pulled back into a snarl like that of a dog's. Due to the orange jumpsuits having short sleeves, her strong biceps were on display, the sight of them making the redhead wet her lips. She looked to be about twenty five years old, maybe younger, her hazel eyes wild and frantic as she pressed the weapon harder against the cop's forehead, her stance widening to a defensive one. 

Nicole was still in shock. How could this gorgeous and angelic woman be so feared by the world? How could she be a demon, when she wore the face of God's messenger? The brunette made a move towards the van, only to notice the two guards sat in the front seat, frozen in shock that their prisoner had gotten the upper hand over an escort of seven well trained cops. She was a Dynamite Sister, though. She was lethal. 

"What do you think she's going to do, Haught?" Egg asked from besides her, the shoplifter's murky brown piggy eyes trained on the small woman beyond the fence. "If she gets out of this one, I'll dedicate a shrine to her. There's seven of them, yet she's got one hostage. Incredible really." 

"It certainly is," Nicole replied, not taking her eyes off the woman. "They should've cuffed her feet and cuffed her hands behind her back. Though, knowing her, she probably would've bitten them given the chance." 

Egg raised a brow. "You think she's a biter? She looks far too soft to want it rough." 

Nicole bristled at how easily her companion talked about the brunette sexually. Only she could do that. She wanted everyone to know that. The Dynamite Sister was hers to do what she pleased with. 

"The little ones always have the most secrets," she replied, before turning to Egg fiercely. "You don't speak about her like that, got me?" 

Egg cringed under the scrutiny of the redhead's gaze. "Yes, sorry, boss. It won't happen again. I promise." 

"Good," Nicole replied darkly, her nostrils flaring like a bull's. "Now enjoy the show." 

The woman had proceeded to have the cop rifle through the pockets of his uniform for the key to her cuffs, and he shakily handed them over. Still holding him at gunpoint, they shuffled over to a nearby police motorcycle, the brunette ordering the men to stay away at a distance as she had their colleague start the engine. Unbeknown to the small woman, another officer was steadily making her way across the car park towards them, her weapon raised and a sniffer dog in tow. 

She released the canine from its leash, and the dog bounded towards the brunette, leaping into the air before crashing into her back, sending the gun reeling away and giving the hostage time to scramble towards his weapon as the other officers approached. The inmates sighed in disappointment, knowing that unless the woman happened to have explosives on her―which was unlikely since they'd have frisked her―there was no escape. 

The dog's jaws closed around her forearm, and the brunette howled in pain, writhing on the ground as the animal continued its onslaught. It stopped when its owner called it off, and the guards proceeded to cuff her properly this time, to which she hardly put a fight, too busy concentrating on stopping the bleeding from where the dog's bite had pierced her skin. She was laughing through the pain, but Nicole still saw the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, even as everyone else turned away once the show ended, returning to their game or talks. 

Weirdly, the sight of the tears made her sick. 

* * *

Waverly was treated in the medical office by a Dr James Conway, who asked her about any medical, dietary or other needs she had. She told him she was vegan, and he promised to inform the kitchen about it. Finally, he gave her some painkillers and wrapped the wound in gauze, sticking a smiley face sticker on it. Despite his optimism and kindness, she still told him to go drink the toilet water and to eat a pepper stuffed with gone off feta cheese. It made her feel a little better, even if he didn't deserve it. 

Once that was done, she was showed to her cell, and thankfully her cellmate wasn't there, off helping on laundry duty or something. She decided to at least spend her time productively, so she went in search of the library, hoping to take her mind off her sister and so that she could pretend that she wasn't actually in prison, that she was back home, lying in her creaky bed as she researched all that she could in one day. 

But she didn't have that anymore. Now, she was stuck in this facility for the next seven years, maybe more after the stunt she'd just pulled. Too lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed that she'd reach the doors to the library, and she shook herself out of her day-mares before half heartedly pushing open the doors. 

The library was small but well stocked, with many novellas, novels and short stories that she had already read stacked in alphabetical order and in the category of their genre on the shelves. There were a dozen or so tables with chairs around them, and in the corner, there were a few inmates reclining on some beanbags. 

Everyone looked up as Waverly entered, probably eager to catch a glimpse of the Dynamite Sister after the show she'd put on just minutes before. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead holding her head up high as she made her way to the history books after being directed by the librarian, a squat woman who had curly grey hair and seemed like the type to only ever wear cardigans. 

As she was picking out her reading material, the brunette sensed the movement of people behind her, making her turn around with a glare. There were three of them, snickering at her as she approached them. 

"Can I help you?" She snarled, making the leader―a plump woman with chubby cheeks, a huge nose with a wart on it that made her resemble a witch and acne running up the left side of her face―cackle like a banshee of sorts. Her henchmen, two women with tattoos and dark skin, both with their lips wrapped around cigarettes, giggled. They appeared to be twins. 

"Yeah, you can," the witch snapped back, reaching for her comrade's cigarette, wrapping her chapped mouth around the fag as she inhaled the smoke, coughing as she exhaled it. She towered over the brunette, but Waverly wasn't afraid. No one could harm her as much as that menacing dog had. "You're that Dynamite Sister, ain't ya?" The witch spoke with a southern accent, and despite herself, the brunette filed away the information for later, ready to get her revenge once she got out of this hellhole. 

"That's right," Waverly replied cockily, smirking as annoyance flashed across the witch's face at her self confidence. "What's the matter, love? Do you want an autograph?" 

Their war of heated words had attracted attention, and the other inmates had begun to crowd around them, whispering to themselves once they recognised who she was. The thought made her smirk even more. She salivated at the thought of letting her fist connect with the witch's nose, to feel the bone break with a satisfying crunch as blood leaked out of her large nostrils. Now, _that_ would be fun. 

"I don't want your pathetic autograph," the witch bit back, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly, spitting out the fag onto the carpet. "I want you to get something straight―" 

"Okay," the brunette interrupted, snickering. "Unfortunately, I can't do that either. If you want me to do it straight, you're going to have a hell of a time bending my bent pole into a heterosexual one. Sorry sweetie." 

The crowd guffawed with laughter, and she smiled at her own joke. The witch's expression darkened further, making the brunette smirk even more. Maybe prison wouldn't be so bad, not if she could spend the next few years annoying the hell out of this bitch. 

Nicole had been watching the spectacle with disbelief. How was the smaller woman getting into more trouble than she had on her first day? And more importantly, had the brunette just made a gay joke? 

_Calm your lesbian ass down, Haught. Sure, she's good looking, but you cannot get involved with a Dynamite Sister,_ she chastised. _Don't think about how sexy her confidence is, or how kissable her lips are, or how silky her hair looks. Fuck, I just want to run my hands through it_ ―

_No! Bad Nicole!_

_But she's so small, and I just want to hold her in my arms and breathe in her probably wonderful smell. And her curves, oh my god, it's a wonder that I haven't jumped her yet. Of course, I'd never do anything without her majesty's consent, but still. A girl can dream._

_BAD NICOLE! KEEP A LID ON IT!_

The witch had gotten tired of Waverly's antics by now, and was pulling her fist back, ready to connect it with her face when someone stepped in between them. The witch's face lit up in surprise and fear as she dropped her hand, scurrying away with her posse like a pack of mice that had just seen a cat. 

Waverly looked up into the face of her captor, surprised when she saw that this was definitely the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She had short fiery red hair, her deep brown eyes penetrating and unreadable as she stared back at the smaller woman. Her pink lips, so soft looking, just begged to be kissed. A wet tongue darted out of her mouth to wet said lips, making the brunette's stomach burn with arousal as she shamelessly ogled the other woman, from her face to the pale curve of her neck and her muscular biceps. 

"You must be the Dynamite Sister," the redhead said, breaking the silence as she stretched out her hand out with a surprisingly warm smile. Her grip was firm, reminding the smaller woman of the biceps she had just been gawking at. "I'm Nicole. Nicole Haught." 

_Holy fuck. She's hot and her surname is Haught!? Ok, breathe Waverly, breathe. Calm your bisexual ass down, girl. She's probably not even gay. But if she is, I'd definitely go for that_ ― 

_NO! BAD WAVERLY!_

"H-Hi," she stammered, deepening the smugness on her hero's face further. _But holy shit, it suits her. I'd pay to have her flash me those dimples and smirk any day. Nope, that's enough. But it's true._ "I'm Waverly Earp." 

"Quite the popular girl around here," Nicole flirted, making her blush. 

"Oh, you know, it's all in the smile and wave," she joked, giving the taller woman a shy smile, before ducking her blushing face. 

"It's quite the smile," the redhead complimented, before she bent down to trace her lips over Waverly's ear, making her shiver. "But I suggest you stay out of my way, little one. I'm the boss around here, I don't care what your reputation is. You're in my territory now, Earp. Got it?" 

"Y-yes," Waverly mumbled. "I promise. I don't want any trouble." 

"Good," Nicole whispered, surprising the brunette when she saw that the other woman's eyes were darkened with lust, her pupils blown. "You're lucky you're cute, or I'd have fought you myself. Have a good day, short stuff." 

And then she was gone. 


	2. Play With Fire

Nicole Haught. The red hair, the brown eyes so intense they could've been black, the gorgeous dimples and smile, the sexy voice. It was all that was on Waverly's mind. She couldn't read through one sentence in her book without being reminded of the other woman, causing her to eventually return the novel to its shelf with a frustrated sigh. Needless to say, she wasn't in a good mood for the rest of the day seeing as there was an accumulation of wetness between her thighs, and―thankfully―everyone decided to stay clear of her, which was probably for the best. Lord, nobody needed her stabbing them with some utensils. 

At the end of the day, after spending most of her time in the laundry room with some blabbering hacker, she was shown to her cell with another escort of guards. It seemed they were serious about her not trying anything this time, as she was gagged and cuffed once more on the way there. It was most annoying, but at least they were getting smarter, the dimwits. 

"Here you are, Ms. Earp," the tallest and most wide shouldered guard said, removing the gag and cuffs as she was shuffled into the cell by the other men, all warily. _Smart ones_ , she mused. _If anyone's going to be manipulated, its those guys. Except big shoulders. He looks like trouble._

"Thanks boys," she replied with a wink, figuring that flirting would be the easiest way to manipulate these guys. Some of them blushed, the others gave her a once over before returning the wink slyly, making her cringe internally. _Ew, they're probably all married and they're flirting with someone less than twice their ages, for most of them._ Big Shoulders rolled his eyes before marching his crew away. 

Waverly rolled her eyes once their backs were turned, massaging her sore wrists as she let her eyes roam over the room. Well, it wasn't actually a room. For one, it offered no sense of privacy. There were no walls, only bars. There was one window, letting in a sliver of natural light, but aside from that it all came from fluorescent lights flickering on and off in the hallway. There were two bunks, both stacked on top of each other, with a chest of drawers for both cellmates. Aside from that, it was barren and spoke of a mundane lifetime. 

Suddenly, behind her, Waverly heard the door open and another inmate was ushered inside. She didn't bother turning around, there was no point in socialising with some fan of her work. Although most didn't know it, she hated being a Dynamite Sister. All it did was bring loads of attention to her that she didn't need. All she had ever wanted was to go to university and finish her history degree, but she hadn't had any source of income to pay the tuition fees. Crime had been the easiest way. 

Now look at her. 

She was miserable and a failure. If only she had worked towards her dreams legally, this never would've happened. Now she wasn't going to get out of this hellhole for seven years. She was going to miss seven years of Wynonna's life, of Jeremy's life, of his boyfriend Robin's life. She was going to be all alone, and that was terrifying. Even for someone who blew up buildings weekly and had been bitten by a dog that morning. 

"Didn't expect to be sharing a cell with you," a sultry and teasing voice said from behind her, their shadow consuming the brunette's form from where she was crouched next to the drawers. 

_It can't be her, can it? Oh shit....._

Waverly shot up in disbelief, her eyes widening when they met Nicole Haught's smug expression. This couldn't be happening. The brunette couldn't move. Was she really sharing a cell with the woman she'd gay panicked over just hours ago? Could she handle spending every night caged in with this blazing hot redhead? How long would she last before she'd crumble to an arousal filled puddle at her feet, and beg the taller woman to help her? 

"Waverly," a voice said, much closer this time. Nicole was staring at her with concern―was that concern, or a trick of her eyes?―and there was barely any space left between their bodies. She was close enough that the smaller woman could reach out and touch her if she wanted to, and before she knew it, her hands were clutching at the other woman's shoulders before she could restrain herself. Spots danced before her eyes, clouding her vision as she felt herself sway drunkenly, a strong arm wrapping around her waist to support her as she was lowered onto the bed. 

"What's happening?" She croaked. Her throat felt as dry as sandpaper, desperate to be quenched by a refreshingly cold beverage. Her eyes felt heavy and sore, as if she hadn't slept in days. Blinking them closed, she reopened them to see none other than Nicole Haught hovering over her, the other woman's gaze trained on where she knew the bite mark was. 

"I think you're having a bad reaction to the medication you're on," the redhead replied matter-of-factly, and the brunette squeezed her eyes shut as pain throbbed through her arm. Nicole bit her lip, unsure how to approach this. She didn't want that Conway man involved―he had no right to lay a hand on Waverly, and she hardly trusted him anyways―so she would have to use the limited medical knowledge she had. She grabbed the pillows from her bed and ordered the brunette to sit up so she could place them behind her for support. "Now, little one, I'm going to need you to get out of that jumpsuit." 

"What!?" Waverly squeaked out, a red tint that the redhead found adorable coating her cheeks like powdered sugar. She chuckled, making the smaller woman pout, though it was quickly replaced by a frown of discomfort. 

"I need to get access to your wound, and since it's on your shoulder, I can't unless you take off the jumpsuit," Nicole explained, not missing the sigh of disappointment that escaped the smaller woman's mouth. She chose not to comment on it, though she would adore to make the brunette blush again. "I promise I won't look Waverly. It's okay to be shy, but I'm not going to do anything." _Yet._

Waverly blew out a shaky breath, still looking slightly insecure. "O-okay. Do you have like a blanket I could cover myself with, or―" 

Nicole marched over to her chest of drawers, rummaging through them before pulling out a basketball hoodie. It was purple and had the words 'Edmonton University Scorpions Basketball Team' written in silver on the front along with a school crest of sorts and the number one on the back with the word 'HAUGHT' emblazoned on the back. It was way too big on her, probably a bit baggy on the redhead too, but she accepted it gratefully. The hoodie smelled like vanilla dipped doughnuts, making the brunette close her eyes contently, a brief image of the redhead all sweaty and playing basketball flashing behind her eyelids. 

"Little one, I'm going to need you to stay awake," Nicole commanded softly, smiling when the brunette listened to her commands eagerly, though she was still fighting off sleep. The redhead crouched next to the bed once more, pinching some of the orange clothing between her fingers. "Take this off. Please." 

Waverly obeyed immediately, unzipping the jumpsuit before sliding it down her legs, before reaching for the hoodie to cover herself, leaving her shoulder exposed for the other woman. The hallway was mainly silent, with most inmates having a late dinner or in the showers, but that was fine by them. Nicole leaned over, beginning to examine the bandages―which were stained slightly with blood―when she realised that there was only one way to get a really good angle when the other woman was lying down. 

Slightly hesitant, Nicole swung a leg over Waverly's own, settling herself so that her thighs were bracketing the other woman's. The brunette squeaked in response, her grip on the hoodie tightening, her breathing become more rapid as she met the redhead's eyes shyly. She opened her mouth, prepared to speak, but was stopped when Nicole's finger rested on her slightly parted lips, silencing her. 

"Relax," she commanded, her voice softer than ever before as she worked at undoing the bandage. Despite her words, the smaller woman was still tense, forcing her to stop her work to aid in reassuring her. "Waverly, I'm not going to hurt you. What can I do to make you relax?" 

Waverly bit her bottom lip, still fully aware of the gorgeous woman currently straddling her. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous, hell, just hours ago she was still throbbing down below from the words the redhead had whispered in her ear that morning. She had been thinking about it just minutes ago. So why was she so scared now that they were in such a position, when all Nicole was trying to do was help her to feel comfortable so that she could treat her wound? 

"I don't know," she whispered, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, but the other woman beat her to it, her thumb caressing her cheek delicately. "It's not you Nicole, I've just had a bad experience with people _that_ way." 

"Shit, I'm so sorry―" The redhead began, instantly regretting her bold move, but was cut off when a finger was placed against her lips this time. _How the tables have turned._

"Shush," the brunette whispered, before tapping the redhead's hips. "Sit up." 

"What?" 

"You want me to feel comfortable, don't you?" Waverly teased, to which Nicole nodded, before hesitantly sitting up. "Do you have a pen?" 

The redhead pointed towards the top drawer, watching with confusion as the smaller woman slipped off the bed, slipping on the hoodie as if she knew she was looking. Even though seeing the brunette in her underwear would be incredibly arousing, she still looked adorable in Nicole's clothes, and she blushed even though she usually hated doing that. For some reason, she didn't mind this time. 

Waverly return seconds later, pink and yellow felt tip pens in her hand. After some deliberation, she plopped down into the other woman's lap, crossing her ankles at the small of her cellmate's back. Nicole's hands instantly gravitated towards her hips, making the brunette hum in response. The smaller woman set the pink pen to the redhead's neck, shifting in her lap every once in a while as she continued her artwork, changing between different colours. If Nicole didn't know any better, she'd say Waverly was teasing her; at least that's what the constant wiggling and mischievous glint in her eyes implied. 

Finally, after five or maybe eight minutes, the brunette pulled back to study her finished body art. Since it was on her neck, Nicole wouldn't be able to see it, at least not without a mirror anyway. Ever so often, the redhead would feel fingers sweep over the juncture of her neck, making her shiver as Waverly's fingers traced the path of the coloured roads on her skin. 

"Are you afraid of me?" Nicole murmured, not sure why she was even asking that. The brunette's eyes locked onto hers, and they stayed liked that for a really long time, before the smaller woman leaned forward to rest her forehead against her own. 

"I'm always going to be afraid of you," she whispered, her voice cracking heavily with emotion. "I don't know why. I hate it here. I hate how vulnerable you make me. I don't understand why you hold all the power over me, just like a puppet master, and all I am is a doll. I hate it." 

There were so many things Nicole wanted to say. _You're not a doll, you're my master. I don't know why you make me weak when we barely know one another, and I hate and love the feeling all at once. It makes my blood boil in the best way possible, but I know that if I'm not careful, it'll kill me._

But she couldn't say any of those things. So instead, she pulled away from Waverly's soul piercing eyes, reaching for the hoodie to check the wound. It was safer to pretend she didn't care. For both of their sakes. 

Later, when Nicole would eventually see the masterpiece of flowing pink and yellow ink, she'd cry as she desperately rubbed away at the work with some soap. She would cry because she had been so oblivious, because someone cared, because it was all too much. She would cry and then she would act like nothing ever happened. It was better that way. Even if she wished the smaller woman could pull the thorns out of her heart, Nicole knew that deep down, nobody could ever love the beast at her core. Nobody loved monsters. No one. 


	3. Soap Can't Wash Away Scars, But You Can

Nicole Haught was crying. Real, physical tears dribbled down her cheeks like baby drool, making her feel disgusted with herself. If Waverly could see her now, she'd probably laugh. At the end of the day, that moment in the cell had been stupid. Feelings were stupid, especially ones for a Dynamite Sister by the name of Waverly Earp. Surely the brunette hadn't meant anything by what she'd carved into the redhead's skin? No, of course not. She was just trying to take her mind off bad memories, and Nicole just so happened to be there. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't. Never. Nobody loved her, or even liked her. She was a bastard, and she'd be lucky if she ever got out of prison legally. 

Shakily, she reached for the bar of soap supplied in every shower stall, running the block over her skin, hoping to wash the scars away. The scars her parents had left on her. But at the end of the day, they weren't physical scars, they were cut deep into the fabric of of heart, and the stitches had popped open when she saw the hearts connected by swirls the brunette had drawn across her neck. The wound was bleeding because she was worried it was all a joke. What if the brunette didn't actually care? What if her first friend―though admittedly, Nicole didn't want to be just friends, but now wasn't the time to gay it up―didn't actually like her, and was just trying to gain power in the prison hierarchy by using her? 

She hadn't talked to Waverly in a week, always going to bed early for fear of having to have a conversation with her. This was the first time the redhead had showered in a week, too afraid to see what was printed on her flesh. But now that she had, she didn't even know why she was crying. Waverly was sweet, caring and selfless, and despite what criminals worldwide thought of her, she was an angel. And she seemed to enjoy Nicole's company, at least during the conversations they'd had. 

Just then, there came a soft knocking at the door of her cubicle. The redhead froze, her grip on the soap tightening. Had someone heard her crying? Would they expose her now that they had heard her during a moment of weakness? She cursed beneath her breath at the thought, turning away from the door to try and erase any signs she'd been crying, secretly hoping whoever it was would leave her alone if she didn't answer. 

"Nicole?" A soft, almost shy voice called out. If the water's velocity had been any stronger, she surely wouldn't have heard the brunette speaking over the roar of the water pounding against the tiled floor. "Nicole, it's Waverly. Um, I know you've been avoiding me, and that's your own personal choice but―" Waverly swallowed, hard. The lump in her throat had been there for days. Sure, she hated being made to feel weak because of the other woman's pull, but it hurt even more to be ignored. To be truly alone. "But I've come to invite you to lunch. With me." 

Nicole blushed, grateful that the door separated them so that the smaller woman couldn't see the crimson flush adorning her cheeks like a medal. She felt elated. Waverly wanted to spend lunch with her. Her. Oh Jesus, she had to stop. It was weird to feel these things again, especially for someone she barely knew. Nope, she couldn't have feelings. There was no way. It was impossible. 

Waverly Earp wanted to have lunch with her!!!!!!! 

"Actually, scratch that," Waverly spoke once more, interrupting the swarm of gay thoughts invading the redhead's mind. She felt a chill run down her spine. Was the brunette reconsidering? "I'm going to sit with you at lunch, dinner and breakfast everyday. I don't care if that ruins your whole vibe or whatever, because if you try to avoid me again, I'll tell everyone you talk in your sleep about cheese and onion sandwiches. Wait, I can't say that. That's too cute, I wanna tease you about that privately. Erm, anyway, yeah. Yeah. Now, um, erm, get your butt out here and dress yourself or else I'll kick down the door and do it myself!" 

There was silence. Nicole couldn't believe what she'd just heard. _Is it natural for Waverly Earp rambling to be so insanely cute and arousing all at once?_

_Oh, cut it out! I'd find anything she said a turn on._

_Probably._

_Definitely._

_Shut up brain!_

"Oh my god, is this the wrong cubicle?" Waverly squeaked out, instantly panicking. If Nicole found out she'd said those things to a stranger she would probably hate her guts and ignore her forever. Oh shit. This was going to be difficult to explain. "I'm so sorry ma'am, I thought you were somebody else. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? Or else I'll decapitate you. Ew, that's too messy. The point is, I'm a Dynamite Sister and I'll beat your ass if you so much as try and ruin Nicole's street cred, got it? I swear, I'm not messing around―" 

The door to the cubicle opened, and Nicole Haught stood before her in only a towel. Her hair was still damp from showering, making the strands appear darker than they actually were. Water droplets dripped down from her hair and across her body, and despite trying desperately to not lower her eyes, the brunette followed the trail of a droplet weaving across the side of the redhead's strong jaw, skating over her pulse point before dipping down across her chest, disappearing out of sight behind the towel. Waverly was left staring blatantly at the other woman's chest, before her eyes skimmed across strong thighs which flexed under gaze, before her eyes trailed back up to the other woman's parted lips. 

It made her heart flutter to see a slight blush on Nicole's cheeks, but it was hidden mainly by her alluring smirk. The redhead was pleased to see that the smaller woman had been checking her out―very obviously, may she add―but frowned when the brunette's eyes widened. She followed her gaze to her own neck. Oh no. Was Waverly upset she'd washed it off, or was it something else? 

"Your neck," Waverly whispered, leaning up on her tiptoes to trace her fingers over the skin as she had nights before. Her eyes had softened, though they were still slightly blown due to the lack of clothing her gorgeous cellmate had on. "Nicole, it's bright red. It...it looks sore, almost like a burn of sorts. What happened?" 

_You happened. My parents happened. You made me remember that I could be cared about, but they...they haunted me with the memory of their punishments._ "I tried washing the pen off a bit too aggressively," she whispered, still aware of the fingers dancing across her throat. "I...I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean anything by it, it was just an emotional trigger."

"I'm so sorry," the brunette whispered, stepping back several paces and clasping her hands together as if her touch could burn someone. "I shouldn't have done that. Art just helps me calm down, and I like drawing shapes on people. Especially people I have a fondness for, or people that I think are special. Sorry. That's weird. Um, I should go, I'm probably making things worse―"

"Waves," Nicole whispered, stepping forward and grasping the smaller woman's hands in her own. "You're not making things worse. I shouldn't have avoided you. I love your art, it was so beautiful, and I'd love for you to draw on me again. The trigger wasn't you, I'm just not used to people caring. Especially those I just met." 

"Oh," the brunette whispered. "Well, I do care. As a um, friend, of course. Now let's go. They're serving pesto pasta." 

"Were you serious about dressing me yourself?" The redhead teased as she turned to head inside her cubicle to change back into a fresh jumpsuit. 

"Don't!" The other woman squeaked, blushing. "Hurry up! I'm starving." 

"Okay, okay!" 

* * *

After they'd made up, Waverly and Nicole became close again. Well, as close as they could be without revealing all their deepest, darkest secrets. Occasionally, they'd get into arguments, and the brunette would storm off in a spitfire of rage until Nicole would have to apologise lest she eat herself alive with the guilt overflowing the cauldron in her stomach. If Waverly was being honest though, she kind of liked seeing the redhead angry―it still hurt though to be on the receiving end of her anger so that Nicole wouldn't lose it and attack the witch and her cronies―but she preferred it when it was directed at someone else, so she could watch along with the crowd as the redhead spoke in a sassy manner and her eyes darkened with rage. 

Despite their arguments, Nicole was charming to be around. She would defend Waverly whenever someone criticized her, and she would always give her leftover food to her cellmate and didn't care if Waverly rambled on for ages about some fact she'd found out. All in all, she was an amazing friend, even though secretly the smaller woman wished they were more. But that could never happen. It was a miracle they were friends to begin with, she shouldn't cross that line and risk disrespecting Nicole's personal boundaries. 

Nicole also spent a great deal of her spare time in the evenings treating Waverly's wound. Slowly, the brunette learned to be more comfortable revealing parts of her body, though she didn't understand why she was so shy in the first place. Nicole made her feel safe, and she respected her. The redhead never let her hands stray, constantly asking if she was okay, and it made the smaller girl's heart melt at how much of a gentlewoman she was. 

So that was how they were tonight, with Nicole straddling her waist, the brunette in just her underwear underneath her. The redhead's eyes were trained on the slowly fading bruise, though she knew there would always be a scar there. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding throughout random parts of the day, and Waverly barely had to use her medication anymore. She smiled at the thought. 

Underneath her, Waverly was playing with a loose thread on the redhead's jumpsuit, humming every now and then. They could feel the heat radiating off one another's bodies, and the brunette had to fight against the urge to surge upwards and claim Nicole's soft looking lips as her own. Neither of them were ready for the complications of something like that. Not yet at least. It was too soon. It would be better to wait until the stream had transformed into a river, and maybe then they could get lost in one another. 

"What're you thinking about?" Nicole asked, breaking her away from her thoughts as they connected eyes for the first time in around ten minutes or so. The terrible lighting cast a shadow over the other woman's face, and she imagined it did the same to her own, but she knew that it hadn't been enough to conceal the path of her eyes as they trailed down to the other woman's lips, before moving back up. Nor were the shadows enough to hide Nicole's signature smirk at the action. 

"I was just thinking about drawing on you again," Waverly said without thinking, her hands latching onto the loose thread once more, twirling it around her finger. "I-if you want me too, that is. You don't have to. Fudgenuggets, that was a stupid question, I'm so sorry―" 

She was shocked into silence when Nicole rolled onto her back, tugging her small frame on top of her. Her short red hair was spread out across the pillow, making it look like a halo made of fire. Her lips were pulled back into a lazy smile, and her eyes were closed, probably from how tired she was. "You can always draw on me," Nicole whispered, her hand finding it's way to one of Waverly's. "I suggest you put some clothes on though. Not that I'm complaining, but I think you'll give everyone a heart attack if they see an angel half naked," she teased, opening her eyes to see the brunette's flustered face as she dragged her fingers along her spine, feeling the shivers as their skin brushed. 

"R-right," Waverly stammered, making her chuckle. The smaller woman didn't move for a few seconds, continuing to play with the loose thread before she cleared her throat. "Where's your hoodie, Nic? Sorry. I don't have any spare clothes since they arrested me on sight. Besides, it's not like my sister can send me a bag of supplies without endangering herself," she chuckled, but there was no humour behind it. 

"Middle drawer," the redhead answered. She was concerned about the change in the brunette's demeanour. Did Waverly blame herself for getting arrested? Was she worried about losing her sister's love and trust? A second later, Waverly returned, dressed in the taller woman's hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that she'd rolled up her legs due to them being so long. She resumed her position on the redhead's hips, but she didn't meet Nicole's eyes, just sat and scratched a nail against her knee. "Wave―" 

"I just miss her so much," Waverly interrupted her, barely holding back a sob. Nicole's heart plummeted at the sight, and she sat up gently, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. Waverly sniffled, burying her face in the crook of the redhead's neck. "It's all my fault, Nic. I should've planned it more, I shouldn't have let that happen. I don't even know what went wrong, but Wynonna probably hates my guts, and I don't even blame her." 

Nicole pulled back slightly, her own eyes glazed with tears as she tilted the brunette's chin up so their eyes met. "You're not unlovable, do you hear me? Wynonna loves you, Waves. I don't see how people couldn't, and anybody who doesn't love you is a complete and utter idiot." 

"You're too kind," Waverly whispered against her lips, but this time she was smiling. Small hands came up to cup her face, and the brunette was pressing gently against her abdomen, pushing her against the bed with a watery smile. She grabbed the bottom of Nicole's shirt, gesturing at it. "Take this off, please. I wanna have a bigger canvas this time." 

Nicole obeyed, slipping the garment off. It had been a plain white shirt she usually wore to bed, but at that moment she never wanted to go to sleep. Waverly was running her fingers over her toned stomach, enjoying the way the muscles flexed beneath her touch. Smiling, she picked up a dark green pen, briefly wondering why her cellmate had colouring pens in the first place, before realising that it was probably to pass the time. Prison could be very boring. 

Nicole sighed contently at the gentle touches across her body, wishing that she had met Waverly earlier on in her life. Yet again, if that were true, maybe they wouldn't be here. And despite how much pain and scars they both carried―both physical and emotional ones―they were together. And that was enough to send the redhead drifting off to sleep with a smile on her face, for the first time in years. She couldn't remember smiling before she met Waverly Earp. 

Waverly finished her drawing, admiring it for a moment, before realising her cellmate had fallen asleep. Smiling, she collapsed on top of Nicole, but not before pulling the duvet over them. It was the best night's sleep in her life, and she wasn't cold at all, because the redhead was like her own personal heater. The thought made a blush spread across her cheeks, and she buried her face in the crook of Nicole's neck, giving it a tender kiss before drifting off to sleep. 


	4. Stuck In My Memories

Nicole was warm. Almost too warm. It was like she had a great, big, furry dog resting on top of her, except this dog's fur wasn't fur. It was smooth, silky skin that was covered in goose bumps, with even softer and better smelling hair that was lightly tickling the side of her neck. It was a weird sensation, because she could've sworn that she hadn't fallen asleep with some dog-human hybrid. There was just no way. Dogs weren't allowed in prison, much less ones that felt too human like to be any part canine and smelled so unbelievably good that it couldn't possibly be an animal. Not even an animal that had a bath recently. 

It was then that she remembered. Waverly. Of course. The thought made her grin that the younger woman hadn't decided to take her bed after Nicole had captured her own, but had decided to sleep with her. Well, not sleep in _that_ sense, but either way the thought was heart warming. It was amazing that she hadn't pulled a muscle from how much she was smiling. 

Waverly's legs were intertwined with her own like strands of wool, her face snuggled tightly into the crook of her neck. Nicole closed her eyes in bliss as short puffs of warm air fanned against her neck, and she almost forgot that they were in prison. It felt like waking up in a beach house with the love of her life, the silk sheets wrapped around them as she held the brunette close, imagining the pearly white beaches shining like jewels in the sun, the turquoise waves lapping at the shore like a thirsty dog. 

But that wasn't true. That was just fantasy, like everything everyone in here ever dreamed of. She wasn't going to get out of here for another eight years or so, maybe more, and when Waverly finally did leave, she was going to forget everything that had ever happened in here, and everyone. She would track down her sister and they would continue their life of crime, until one day Waverly would meet some good looking woman or man and they'd settle down together in an isolated space away from all the chaos. Without her, because all Nicole was and all that she could ever be is a cellmate, stuck in here for eternity. 

But she had to focus. Wandering thoughts wouldn't help, because they would only push the adorable woman on top of her away. Like last time. That only brought new pain, and no one needed that. 

Nicole's breath hitched when one of the brunette's hands swiped over her abdomen, and it was then that she realised she wasn't wearing a shirt. The second thing she saw was the outline of the smaller woman's creation, an expanse of green and purple from what she glimpsed briefly. But the main image was obscured from view due to the artist herself reclining on top of her, snoring softly, a flicker of a smile on her perfect lips. 

"Good morning," Waverly whispered in a her ear, her tone one far too seductive for this early hour. She rubbed her eyes, before propping herself up on her elbows to gaze at the woman below her―all the while all Nicole could think was how perfect she looked in the morning―not realising that she hadn't returned the greeting until the other woman giggled above her. "Earth to Nicole. You in there, sleepyhead?" 

"Oh, umm," Nicole blushed at having been caught in a trance. "I'm here. We should probably shower or whatever. I'll see you for breakfast though, right?" 

Waverly beamed. "Of course." 

* * *

_Nicole sat on top of her bed, flipping through the pages of her mother's Vogue catalogue. Three days ago she had turned eight, but she had refused to take off the party hat she wore on her birthday. Her little legs were kicking against the air, one thumb stuck in her mouth as she eyed all of the clothes on display, gasping at the bright colours and waving her fingers around as she imagined the textures of the materials._

_Downstairs, her parents were screaming at one another again. They'd been getting into fights lately, but she had no idea why they were fighting in the first place. All she knew was that it made the dog pee himself every time_ ― _and that just seemed to infuriate her father even more, if that was possible―and no matter what she did to calm him down, he would just keep screaming and screaming until her mother would send her upstairs, away from all the commotion._

_It pained her to see her parents argue. They had been so in love once, but now everything just seemed to be falling apart. Timidly, she slid off the bed, opening her door to peer over the banister at the scene below her. Her parents were in the kitchen, both in their pyjamas, bickering once more._

_Suddenly a door slammed, making the old house shudder, and causing a few dusty boxes behind her to topple over. Her parents turned away from one another, watching as her brother came swaggering into the house. His hair was newly dyed―a shade of purple this time, with the roots still their natural raven black―and he was wearing the clothes he had left the house in yesterday, a hoodie with a band logo on it, his signature sneakers and ripped jeans._

_"Where have you been?" His mother barked, her eyes bloodshot from all the crying and arguing. Her husband looked in much the same state, his facial hair unshaven and his teeth a concerning shade of yellow._

_"I was out," Her brother, Daniel, answered. He shrugged his shoulders, making it sound like it was no big deal. His mother's jaw tightened, her expression darkening at his nonchalance. He raised his hands in surrender, "chillax, ma. There's no bodies or vomit in the car. I'm not even drunk."_

_"Don't take that tone with me, Daniel!" She barked, spit flying everywhere. "It's bad enough having your father sitting on his lazy butt, I don't need you running off and shagging people for days on end!"_

_Daniel rolled his eyes. "I'm not shagging anyone. It was one night. Besides, don't act like you ever do anything. I'm the one who takes care of Nicole. You two never do anything for her! I'm more her parent than both of you combined!"_

_"Shut up!" Their father roared, making the redheaded girl jump. She had never heard him scream at any of his children like that. "You can't come in here and say things like this to us. We deserve a break, we're old. Besides, it's not like I even wanted a daughter anyway. Nicole's just a stupid outcome of an unwanted pregnancy."_

_Daniel's face paled. "You....you take that back."_

_Their father snorted. "Why? It's true. You're lucky we kept your ungrateful ass. Wish we hadn't."_

Nicole was crying in the shower again. She couldn't stop remembering him. It didn't help that the art Waverly had drawn on her stomach―an anime character of sorts, who was decked out in leather with spiky black hair, red eyes and a nose ring. There was a backdrop of purple and green fire, truly making it pop―and the whole thing was heart-breaking and beautiful all at once because it just reminded her of him, and how it had all been her fault. It was all her fault. 

It would always be her fault, and nothing could change that fact. No amount of time or grieving could convince her otherwise. She would always blame herself, because it was the truth. 

A knock sounded on her door, pulling her out of the void's grip. She could at least breathe momentarily now thanks to the distraction. "Nic?" Waverly called out gently. "Are you okay in there? You've been in there for a while now. I just wanted to check up on considering that the last time this happened you were upset." 

_God, how does she always read me so well._ She hesitated, before deciding that it wouldn't hurt to be honest just this once. "Well, I guess I am a little upset. But you haven't done anything wrong, Wave, please know that. I'm just being a bit silly. You can go ahead to the cafeteria, I'll be fine." 

"What? No. I won't leave you alone," the brunette replied stubbornly, and the redhead could picture her distinctly in her mind, her small arms crossed over her torso, her brow laced with a mixture of confusion and concern. 

The image was so endearing that it brought a blush to her cheeks, and for once she didn't mind. It seemed that ever since she met Waverly, the little actions and emotions she hated gradually became things that she began to accept. "You're cute," she said, and she heard a faint squeak from the other side of the door, making her smile broadly and laugh. 

"Stop teasing me," Waverly groaned, which only made the redhead chuckle even more, causing the smaller woman to huff in mock annoyance. "I'm trying to comfort you here, but you can never stop flirting. Not that I'm complaining. Shit, I said that out loud. Fudge, I'm sorry Nic―" 

The door to the cubicle opened, and suddenly Waverly was face to face with Nicole Haught. An almost naked Nicole freaking Haught. She was only wearing a towel, the material hugging her curves flawlessly, the towel ending about mid-thigh. Needless to say, it didn't leave much to the imagination. Her eyes slowly trailed back up the redhead's body, entranced by the way her cellmate's muscles flexed lightly under her gaze, watching with bated breath as patterns of water―similar to little baby snakes learning to slither, or iguanas that had just hatched speeding across a beach―trailed over Nicole's upper chest. 

Waverly knew it wouldn't take much. With one firm push, she could easily bundle them both inside the cubicle. She knew it was what she wanted, but for some reason, her limbs couldn't function. Every fibre in her body felt like stiff ice, but all she could think and imagine was how Nicole would taste, how warm and velvety she would feel, how she would sound. The thought was so tempting, so desired that she desperately wanted to take the prize on a silver platter, to explore the space between Nicole's legs, the space that was oh so dark and mysterious. A place that no one had probably touched in several years. 

Suddenly, Waverly couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe because she remembered Champ, and every bad seed he'd ever planted inside her brain. She remembered how he had only ever cared about himself, his pleasure, his reputation, his happiness. She remembered how he had cheated on her in front of her very eyes before, only to deny the accusations despite the witnesses. She remembered how on her seventeenth birthday he had dragged her to his house, his breath reeking strongly of alcohol, only to force himself on her without a care in the world. And she had let him. 

She remembered Jolene, and how horrible it had been to be a victim of her bullying. Waverly remembered every little mean message or word the bully had said to her, but she had never ratted her out. If she did that, no one would believe her. Everyone loved Jolene. She volunteered at every single charity event, and she would make baked goods for everyone, delivering them around town, earning praise and giving her sweet, fake smiles in return. 

Her attention then focused on Nicole. She remembered how the redhead had threatened her the day they first met, and she suddenly wondered if this was all just one big joke. She wondered if the redhead's game plan was to break her heart by making her fall in love with her, only to crush her like a Dorito. But that couldn't be true, she reasoned. Nicole was always so sweet and kind and attentive to her needs. The tough guy thing was all just an act, and deep down she cared. 

Right? 

But that didn't seem to register with the logical side of her brain, because all the bad memories were coming back and she was on the verge of an anxiety attack. Waverly didn't realise that her head had fallen onto the other woman's shoulder with a soft thump until strong arms were lowering her to the ground, a muffled voice whispering comforts as the redhead squeezed her knee, grounding her. Grounding _them_. 

But then her semblance of control and comfort was gone, as the doctors and nurses crowded around her, and then Conway was pushing Nicole away even as she protested profusely. Then there was a sharp pain in her left arm, and Nicole was shouting out in concern and fear. It was then that the brunette realised that someone was screaming, the noise distant, as if she were underwater. 

And then she realised the screams were her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's your author here. I hope you enjoyed that update, even though it was a bit sad. But let's be realistic, not everything about love and life is happy. It's like cities, grim and dirty and polluted by gases and lights. But cities can also be beautiful, with soaring and eye capturing architecture. 
> 
> By the way, anxiety attacks aren't as bad as that. The one Waverly had was exaggerated for entertainment purposes. This doesn't meant to say they can't be that bad, I'm just saying that from personal experience, mine haven't been like the one that I described in this book. That being said, I did have a horrible anxiety attack once. 
> 
> If you need help or are suffering, please don't hesitate to contact a helpline. Self-harming and suicide is never the answer. Nor is putting up with rape and sexual assault from a partner. Don't harm yourselves or take your own life. It'll only transfer the pain to other people. 
> 
> There are people who care. I'm here if anyone needs to talk. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Just work for it. Be strong. Take care of yourself.


	5. Deeper Than A Ravine

Waverly awoke a few hours later. Her eyelids felt heavy, as if they had been glued shut. The few tears that escaped her eyes due to the blinding lights―which, in reality, were probably very dim―had the texture of wax, making her wonder anxiously how long she had been knocked out for. She sat up in the bed swiftly, realising with confusion that it wasn't her own, making her swivel around, trying to guess where in the hell she was. 

The room's walls were a creamy white, like that of milk, but will a yellow hue to it. Some of the plaster had begun to peel off, much like a lot of the rooms in Black Rock prison. There were pin boards on almost every wall, with pamphlets advertising different attractions, health care tips and conditions. There were posters too, decorated with glitter and stickers, almost as if they had been made by kids. 

The Earp woman began to feel incredibly uncomfortable in this new environment. Desperate to flee, she began shuffling off the bed, only to hear approaching voices. There were two of them, a female who sounded extremely angry and a male, who seemed to be highly anxious but also pissed off. Waverly couldn't blame him. No one liked being screamed at, even if it had happened a million times before. 

Suddenly the door to the room burst open, and in stumbled a very peeved and flustered Dr Conway, followed closely by an infuriated Nicole Haught. The doctor was cowering on the floor, the redhead hovering over him menacingly when she suddenly caught Waverly's gaze, and her violent rampage was halted as she dashed over the body at her feet so that she could kneel besides the brunette, who had been sitting in stunned silence ever since they entered. 

"Waves, you're awake!" Nicole said joyfully, a huge smile on her face that had enough brightness behind it to contend with the sun. The sight made the smaller woman return the smile, her hands reaching of their own accord to glide across her cellmate's cheeks, not missing the fact that there were dark semi circles beneath her eyes, the sight of them making the brunette's stomach twist with a hungry and relentless guilt. 

"I'm sorry." The words were softer and more broken than she intended for them to be, but she couldn't take them back now. More tears escaped out of her eyes before she could stop them, like melted wax trailing its road of life down the passageway of a candle. Frustrated, she reached up to wipe them away, but Nicole beat her to it. 

"Why are you apologising, angel?" Nicole asked in a hoarse whisper, peeking up at her through her long eyelashes. She was crouched at the brunette's feet, like an adorable puppy seeking the affection of its master. It was rather amusing actually, as Waverly believed that the redhead held all the control over her, but here she was, showing her that the ball was in her court just as much as it was in her own. 

Waverly shook her head. "I don't know. You just look like you've had a rough night and I can't help but think it's my fault. I mean, if I hadn't of had a panic attack or whatever that was, we wouldn't be in this mess. So, I'm so, so sorry, times infinity―" 

"Shush," Nicole whispered, a cocky smirk on her face as she silenced the smaller woman's rambling by placing a finger against her lips. It had the desired affect, causing her to lapse into silence and for her to go rosy-cheeked. The taller woman grinned at this; she loved nothing more than making her cellmate blush. 

"What're you―" Waverly mumbled out out of the corner of her mouth, her nose and forehead crinkling in an adorable manner as she frowned in confusion. It only made the redhead's heart hammer in her chest further, and she had to fight back her own blush. 

"You never have to apologise, Waves," she reassured her, placing a hand on the other woman's knee before giving it a squeeze. Waverly ducked her head slightly in embarrassment at her own actions, only to feel a finger lifting her chin up gently so she could be eye to eye with Nicole. 

It surprised the brunette what she saw swimming in the expanse of hot chocolate that was the taller woman's eyes. Nicole was looking at her like she had hung the stars and all the moons in the solar system just for her own entertainment, just because she adored her loyal and caring redheaded cellmate that much. It was such an intense look that Waverly was tempted to look anywhere but at Nicole, but she just couldn't. 

Has anyone ever looked at you look you're the reason they get up every morning? Have you ever felt a connection so strong with another human being that you feel as if your hearts were in synch? That was how both women felt as they gazed into one another's eyes. It was a simple thing, but their bond ran deeper than a ravine. They didn't even have to admit it to one another, it was just one of those things. They cared about each other, they both knew that, exactly like everyone knew that in order to get orange paint you had to mix yellow and red together. 

The moment was broken by Dr Conway, who had sheepishly staggered to his feet and was asking very politely if he check Miss Waverly Earp's vitals so that he may allow them to return to their cell together. The examination was performed with the upmost respect―Nicole made sure of that, keeping a possessive eye on the brunette, which only made Waverly blush even more―and finally, after she had signed a few papers, she was allowed to go. 

"So," Nicole said in a sing song tune, a big grin plastered on her face as they exited the medical bay hand in hand―Waverly admitted rather shyly underneath her breath that she didn't feel like losing contact with her, and for some reason Nicole chose not to tease her this time, though she had her suspicions that she would pull one of her shower showstoppers again. 

"So?" Waverly drawled, encouraging the other woman to share what was on her mind. However she only gave her a sneaky smile, tugging on their joined hands as they descended the hallway, weaving through the maze of compounds the prison contained. 

Nicole didn't speak for the rest of their journey, simply guiding her throw sections of the prison she hadn't yet visited. They had left the medical bay, which was situated between the compounds separated between male and female inmates, and were now making their way past the gate for new arrivals. It was as they were preparing to enter their compound―Block A―that Waverly saw him. He was unmistakable, even after all these years. 

"Is that him?" Nicole asked her cautiously, with a hint of spite towards the unknown man in her voice. "Is that the guy who hurt you?" 

Waverly swallowed deeply, feeling her fists becoming clammy. "Yes. That's...that's him." 

"I'll be right back," Nicole promised, leaning down to peck her forehead softly before swiftly marching towards him, determination laced in her movements. 

_Deeper than a ravine. Her protector. Nicole._

"Holy smokes, Nicole!" Waverly shouted, breaking into a sprint as she tried to reach the other woman before she did something stupid. 


	6. You're Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter but better ones will arrive soon.

Adrenaline can cause you to do crazy things. Love can cause you to do reckless things, but also great things, too. Anger just pushes you off the rails, but in a strange way, once you let it out, you can come back calmer than you ever were before. Or not, in other cases. Some people have to feed the beast inside of them everyday, plunging them into a whirlpool of darkness. 

Waverly was using this moment of adrenaline to try and stop the inevitable; Nicole Haught's fist colliding with her tormentor's face. She didn't want the other woman to end up in solitary confinement because of her, it wouldn't be fair for someone to have to suffer because of her. Selfishly, she didn't want to not be in the redhead's presence, because Nicole made her feel safer than she had felt in a long time. Yet, at the same time, she promised danger, which was both terrifying and alluring all at once. 

The brunette just managed to catch up to her cellmate, grabbing her elbow firmly to stall her movements. Nicole whirled on her, eyes fierce as if she had expected it to be a guard, ready to restrain her at the first glimpse of trouble. Her eyes softened immediately once they landed on Waverly, the fire in her eyes dying somewhat. 

"What's the matter, Waves?" She whispered, eyes shining with a want to beat the crap out of the man resisting entrance to the prison but also wanting to stay here and protect her precious little one. "I'm not gonna get hurt, I promise. But I refuse to allow him to get away with hurting you. He's not leaving my line of sight unless he has double black eyes." 

"He knows very rich people, Nic," she said, hoping to intimidate the redhead into backing down from her suicide mission. "If you attack him, you'll end up in solitary confinement. His lawyers are incredibly rich and capable of swaying people to do things their way. They'll have you locked up in here for life." 

Nicole froze for a second, but she simply shook her head. "They can't break my spirit. But I'm going to break his nose. He messed with the wrong girl. Fucking bitch―" 

"Stop," Waverly whispered, a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye. She hastily rushed to wipe it away, but her hand bumped into Nicole's that had beaten her to it. The smaller woman stared at the ground, ashamed that she was showcasing such vunerability in a place where everyone could see them should they happen to look in their direction. 

"Don't cry, little one," her protector whispered, her voice no longer edged with the promise of throwing fists this way and that. "He's no worth it, whoever he is. Don't cry over him. There's no need. Will you tell me what happened?" Nicole asks, gentle and kind, unlike what people inside rumour she is like. 

"Yes," Waverly whispers, her breath hitching at the dark memories. The demons begin to walk away as soon as Nicole loops their hands together, a warmth shining about her that's more pronounced than it was before. "Yes, I'll tell you everything." 

Nicole squeezes her hand. _You're not alone anymore._

Waverly squeezes back. _Neither are you._

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is also available on Wattpad, under the same username and title.


End file.
